The Woodcutter and the Green Ogre

Rewriting Sir Gawain and the Green Knight in the style of Charles Perrault

Once upon a time, there lived a lord of the manor who was presiding over a New Year’s feast in his great hall, which was lined with mirrors. All of a sudden, there was a loud banging at the door. At once, in burst a green-faced ogre. Standing opposite the top table, he wielded a monstrous axe. All the guests fell silent. The lord of the manor had a place laid, but the ogre declined reassuring the company that he meant no harm. In a voice that made everyone shudder, he issued a challenge, ‘I shall give this axe to anyone brave enough to strike me a blow and be struck by me a year from now.’

At first the whole company began to weep. The ogre roared with laughter. This angered the lord of the manor, as the sight froze his wife's blood with fear and she nearly died of fright. It was then that the woodcutter stepped forward, because he understood he was the least important of those present.

After he solemnly swore his pledge, the woodcutter took up the axe. Just then, he heard the unmistakeable voice of a fairy whispering in his ear, 'You mean him no harm, it's best that you miss.' He swung away from the ogre, quite deliberately shattering the top half of the grandest mirror. The whole company was filled with fear when they saw the ogre's headless reflection. Picking up a jagged shard of glass and holding it on high, the ogre saw his head still firmly on his shoulders. ‘I am known as the green forest ogre. Even a fool could find me. Keep your word, or be regarded a coward forever.’

Ten months later, the woodcutter set out to complete his quest. He rode to the farthest corners of the land and asked of the green ogre but none knew of him. As he ventured into the forest's heart, he felt surprised to see towers rising above tall trees.

He headed for the ancient castle where he was warmly greeted by the lord and lady of the estate. They treated him to a splendid supper, although the young woodcutter ate nothing, because he was so busy looking at the lady. While the cook roasted a giant, wriggling sausage over the hearth, she gazed back at the woodcutter more intently than might have seemed proper at a first meeting.

The lord enquired why the woodcutter had travelled there. He revealed his quest, and at once the lord reassured him, ‘I shall direct you myself when the time comes.’ He proposed a pact, he would give the woodcutter whatever he caught hunting; in return the woodcutter should give him anything gained during his absence.

The next morning the lord galloped off at breakneck speed with huntsmen and pack. Deer were driven into dells where arrows rained upon them.

The lady, in her radiant splendour, slipped into the woodcutter's chamber and sat beside him on the embroidered chaise-longue, and with tenderness in her eyes she seductively teased, ‘You’re free to do with me what you will.’ Realising the lady was not to be trifled with, the woodcutter courteously resisted her advances. However they enjoyed a single kiss.

Meanwhile a crowd flocked to the hunting grounds, and butchered the slain. Upon his return the lord consulted the woodcutter who dutifully replied, ‘It is the finest cull I have seen in years.’ The lord gave it all to his guest. In return the woodcutter gave him a single kiss, refusing to explain how he had received it.

The next day the lord set out hunting again. His lurchers tracked a monstrous wild boar, which fiercely inflicted wounds on the hunting party.

The lady crept into the woodcutter’s chamber a second time, sitting beside him on the scarlet loveseat. She lent across to kiss him, perplexed that he refused to respond more attentively. The woodcutter remained respectful; at length they kissed and she left the chamber.

Meanwhile, the lord bravely tackled the quarry. They tumbled into the water where he thrust home his blade and the party swaggered back to the castle. The woodcutter flattered his host, pretending to be scared as he handled the mighty boar’s head. The lord gave it to his guest, who kissed him on the neck in return, before taking the trophy to his chamber.

The next morning the lord set out hunting again, and soon the party fell upon the scent of a wolf which gave them the slip, taking the shorter path to the depths of the woods.

A third time the lady entered the woodcutter’s chamber, exuding her soft, beguiling charm. He had never seen such beauty. She turned the little key, which tumbled from the lock onto the boar's head, becoming stained with its clotted blood. She lay beside the woodcutter on the bed, kicking off one of her glass slippers. They spent hours talking, and still did not say all that they could. As he reflected on his quest, she laughed warmly, kissed him, and kindled his passion. The temptation was strong. Again, he heard the fairy's voice in his ear, 'You sense you might fail. Be reassured, those who do good need have no fears.' Resolved, the woodcutter swore to himself that he would not yield; he responded to the lady cheerfully and respectfully, assuring her that she had no rival for his affection. Feeling downcast, she kissed him and asked him to accept her fine golden ring. The woodcutter declined as he could give her nothing in return. Feeling rejected, the lady offered him her sash, but paying sincerest thanks, again he declined, ‘I cannot accept a gift until my quest is completed’. The lady explained that her sash, worn securely, was proof against any blow. The woodcutter pondered, and was at last persuaded. He agreed not to breathe a word to the lord. The clock struck the first stroke of midday. She kissed him three times before unlocking the door and quickly departing.

Meanwhile the huntsmen had finally outwitted the wolf. Upon the lord’s return, the woodcutter embraced him and kissed him three times. The lord regretted that he could only offer the wolf. After evening celebrations, he appointed a servant to guide the woodcutter to the green forest.

The very next day the woodcutter dressed himself and tightly fastened the sash, before mounting his great horse. After riding over wooded, steep and rocky ground, the servant explained that they were entering the green forest, 'Alas. The inhabitant is an ogre who likes nothing better than to destroy humans.' They bade one another farewell. The young and ardent woodcutter, who was always full of courage, followed a path through a towering gorge and dismounted at a bald mound by a brook. He circled around, puzzling, ‘Is this a green forest, or devil's lair where ghosts are seen to walk?’

Suddenly he heard a blood-chilling grating of metal on stone echoing from the hillside. In a great cloud of dust, the ogre descended from the cliffs, wielding his massive axe. He acknowledged the woodcutter had kept his word, ordering him to bow to receive the blow. The woodcutter did so, pretending that he was fearless. However, as the ogre swung the axe, the woodcutter sensed the blade and shrank back. ‘Call yourself honourable?’ taunted the ogre. ‘I did not flinch when you handled the axe one year ago.’

Again the woodcutter heard the reassuring voice of the fairy, 'You must not be afraid.' So the woodcutter stretched out his neck, retorting to the ogre, ‘Yes, I flinched, but I shall not fail. Now bring on that blow.’ The ogre aimed again as the woodcutter remained steady as a tree stump, gripped by the earth. The ogre restrained his arm, missing the woodcutter. ‘So you have plucked up your courage, now I shall hack your delicate neck.' The woodcutter was unprovoked, dismissing the threat. This angered the ogre and he aimed a third blow which grazed the woodcutter’s neck. At once the woodcutter leaped back, bracing himself.

The ogre secretly admired the woodcutter’s bravery. He explained that the quest was complete; the third blow had grazed him because of his dishonesty, wearing that sash. Stricken by remorse, the woodcutter flung it before the ogre, ‘Through treachery and lies I have failed,’ he lamented bitterly. He threw himself at the ogre's feet and asked his pardon.

The ogre laughed, ‘Through your confession you are absolved of your guilt.’ Then he revealed that he was indeed none other than the lord himself, quite able to change his form. He gave the woodcutter the sash and invited him to return to the castle, where his wife would now be the woodcutter's true friend, not his temptress. The woodcutter politely declined, regretting that men are this easily fooled by women. He gladly accepted the sash, a reminder of men’s feeble resolve, a charm to deter misplaced passion. Finally he asked the lord why he had ventured to his homeland one year before.

‘In my castle lives your lord's half-sister, in the guise of old woman. This was all her scheme to terrify her sister-in-law. Return with me to meet her.’ Again the woodcutter politely declined, so they bade one another farewell.

The woodcutter sped homewards where he received the warmest welcome. He described his adventure, confessed his weakness, revealed the small blemish on his neck and showed them the sash. The lord of the manor, who was a good soul, had an announcement made that every tenant should wear such a sash, in honour of the woodcutter and his quest.

THE MORAL

So through this green emblem, worn like a sash,

We shall not forget that men can be rash.

Brave souls must ensure to keep up their guard

And be faithful to quests, though that is hard.